Hands Of Fate
by skysedge
Summary: A body in his arms. Two creatures with one voice. Four chances to change everything. Can Cassian save Jizabel this time? Caught in a cycle of insanity and despair, Cassian is determined to change the past to bring about the future he has lost once before. [Indefinite hiatus]


**A/N **_Some of you might vaguely recognise this. I am reworking – and __finishing__ this time – a story I started entitled 'Wheel of Fortune'. It's been reworked a little and therefore needs writing. I have been lacking in the CassianxJizabel department recently and as such am on a mission to write as much as possible for everyone who I know enjoys them._

_Warning: While not AU, this story is considerably stranger than most of the ones I post. Please bear with it. After this initial introduction, things will become clearer. __**Spoilers for the majority of Volume 8. **__This will be much easier to understand if you've actually read that volume, since I won't need to explain what happens in the actual story. Set mid-volume 8._

_Lyrics at the start from Wheel of Fortune by Eiko Shimamiya. Godchild and its characters etc belong to Kaori Yuki and not me. The other characters in this, however, are all mine._

-x-

_**:: I become lost on the animal trail without a way back ::**_

Cassian was sure he was losing his mind.

The sickening sound of skin being sliced open. A scalpel pulled across tissue, sinew and nerve. It sounded endlessly in his brain. Louder than his heavy footsteps, louder than the cracking of stone pillars, louder than the crunching of shattered bones in dangling, lifeless legs.

"_I will never forgive you if you waste even a drop of his blood."_

Even then, it had been difficult to hear his own voice over the tearing of skin, the opening of the rent that let the lifeblood pulse out and stain Riffael crimson, stain his own hands crimson, stain the _world_ crimson. His world. The world that had ended.

Because the doctor had been his world, up to that point. He'd been living in the hope of saving one man and nothing more. He'd given up living for himself long ago. But that was gone. His reason for living hung in his arms as limp, awkward and beautiful as a doll. He couldn't raise his eyes away from the doctor's final expression as he walked. It was peaceful. Too peaceful.

"_I will never forgive you."_

That was true. He shook with anger at the possibility that Riffael was out there now, wasting the stolen life pulsing in his veins. He would never be able to forgive the man for anything. After all, he had left with the doctor's crucifix and a message, a blessing of sorts. All Cassian had been left with was _this_, a cooling bloodstained corpse who was heavy in his arms.

He could still hear the flesh tearing, as if he was trapped in that moment and every movement leading to his position now had been fabricated, a coping mechanism. Or perhaps that delusion was the coping mechanism. He wasn't sure, didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing did. Not any longer.

There was a door at the end of the corridor. The shaking in the building had forced it to open a little and pale, wintery light was streaming in, lighting up spiralling stone-dust like tiny insects. Cassian walked towards it, out of habit more than anything else. This had been the exit he would take when the doctor sent him on errands. He had been smaller, then. Angrier, too. The world outside had been filled with possibilities to prove himself and get somewhere in life. Now, all that awaited him outside of the doors was the end of the world. People were already screaming. Their cries were soft in contrast to the constant tearing in his head.

So, this was it, was it? The end of the fight? The rest at the end of a lifetime uphill struggle? It wasn't what he had been hoping for or what he had been expecting, even on his darkest days. There was always passion in his imagined endings. This moment, the endless moment that contained everything from the doctor's final words to these footsteps echoing in the vaulted corridor, this moment contained no passion. It was bleak. Empty. Nothing but the distant tremors of someone else's pain and the continual crunching of the bones in the doctor's broken legs.

He was going to do something stupid. He could feel it waiting on the horizon, scorching the ground with black flames. He would leave here, lay the doctor to rest, wait a few days maybe so that he could pretend he was strong enough to carry on and then... Break. It would be a relief, finally letting go like that. Like the night he had killed the ringmaster and his whore. Playing the hero wasn't going to work anymore, not that it ever had. He needed to face the darkness already reclaiming possession of his heart and turn it outwards.

Even if London was brought to its knees by this tragedy, it would be nothing compared to the pain that was tearing at his own heart. People needed to know, needed to _feel_. His footsteps carried him ever closer to the door and the outside world where things would begin again, where the world would be remade anew. A darker world than before. One where he had to bury the remains of his hopes in the cold and indifferent earth.

His footsteps quickened, the door close now. He was ready for it to all begin again. In his rising hurry, he failed to notice the tears staining his cheeks or the way his fingers tightened on the dead flesh of one arm. He couldn't deal with this anymore. He needed the freedom. He needed to-

"_Wait."_

A voice cut through his senses. No, not a voice. _Two_ voices, speaking in chorus. It had been the first sound to override the sick repetition in his mind and this alone stopped him from walking. He stumbled as he stopped, the sudden change sending him off-balance. Once he had stabilised himself, he listened carefully to the ringing silence. There were no more words but he was sure he hadn't imagined it. Two voices, speaking together, coming from behind him. This corridor didn't branch at all which meant the speakers had come from the hall. The hall where...

Cassian spun suddenly, almost dropping the doctor in his panic. Who had followed him? Who was trying to take the doctor away this time?

At first, he saw nothing. The corridor was as empty as it had always been, the distant hall at the end dark and grey. A few gas lamps still burned and cast oily shadows on the shaking walls. Forcing his painful eyes to focus, he realised there was something strange about the air in the corridor. On any other day, he would have been worried. As things were, there was nothing left that could surprise him.

In the centre of the corridor, the air was shimmering in two places. To the left of the corridor, the air seemed to ripple and glow gently, golden dust-motes twirling in a vortex. As Cassian watched it, the colour grew brighter, shaming the gaslight, and the disturbance became more like a cloud. It stretched up, about the height of a man now, and continued to brighten. Beside this, on the right, was a dark patch of unnatural shadow. It was low, close to the ground, and seemed to cling to the stone like oil. Where the gold cloud permeated the air, this shadow grew up out of the ground. After a few moments, two protrusions started looking very much like arms.

Enough. He started to turn, knowing he could pass this off as a delusion and not have to feel regret at not finding out what was going on. Maybe Delilah had managed to summon something unexpected. If so, it wasn't his problem.

"_Wait!"_

The voices this time were piercing and shrill. Cassian winced and turned back in time to see the shapes finish condensing, solidifying, shaping. Two figures now stood between him and the hall. On the left, a tall golden man, his surface sparkling and shifting as if he was a glass figure filled with a glittering cloud. On the right, a short and squat creature with long arms that gripped the ground on each side. It's surface was jet black and it seemed to ooze onto the stone at its long feet. Neither of the figures had any features, nor mouths with which they could speak. Nevertheless, Cassian felt as if they were watching him and waiting for him. Their eyeless faces demanded that he acknowledge them.

"Why?"

His own voice sounded alien to him, and not only because it was one he had only owned for a few months. It sounded cold and empty. The same sort of voice the doctor had used. The same sort of voice he had learned to find warmth in.

The figures had apparently not been expecting such a reaction. The golden one twisted its head while the black one slapped a wide palm against the floor. When Cassian didn't react to this, it slapped the other.

"_Such an ungrateful being," _the creature said. It had to have come from the squat and oily one, as the tone was slick and sour.

"_We have a proposition for you." _The golden one spoke this time. Its voice was deep and rang with subtle harmonies, not one voice but many.

"I won't do anything for you," Cassian said, the words leaving his lips before he had really thought about them. He pulled the doctor's body closer against his chest, dark eyes wide and hunted. "I won't do anything for anyone anymore."

"_What about for yourself?"_ The black creature grinned without a mouth and Cassian imagined sharp rows of pointed and glistening teeth.

"_What about for the one named Jizabel Disraeli?"_ The golden one was smiling, also. It would have been a kind smile, one that promised empathy. Before Cassian could reply, the two beings were speaking in chorus once again, the tones blending and shifting.

"_We know what you're feeling. We know what you are intending to do. And it would be a waste, creature named Cassian. It would be a crime against Fate, to have your short existence end in such a way. You haven't considered suicide yet," _they said, stopping him from interjecting, _"but you will. By then, it will be too late for us to reach you. That is why we are here, now. If you let this moment pass, there will be no chance to challenge what has been decided."_

"_You will be lost to oblivion," _the dark creature hissed, alone.

"_You will lose the one named Jizabel Disraeli to oblivion,_" the golden one murmured. There was a moment of silence before the voices rejoined, speaking with more clarity and passion that they had before.

"_But there is a chance to go back. Not all hope is lost."_

Any thoughts he had been holding of leaving and pretending this had never happened flew from Cassian's mind. He gaped at them, expression creased with a frown of confusion. Surely this was just a delusion. He had snapped, his mind had given out under the strain of losing the one thing he had cherished and was now trying to trick him into believing he could change the unchangeable.

A delusion. Yes. He clutched the doctor tighter still and took a deep breath.

"What does that mean?"

If it was _his _delusion, there could be no harm in questioning it. He would use that excuse until the dream was over.

"_It means you can be a hero," _the dark creature answered.

"_It means you can save him," _the golden one followed.

"How?" He shook the body a little, wincing as bones and sinews broke with wet snaps. "How can I save him from _this_? I've had enough of brain transplants and walking corpses. Whatever you are, you can't-"

"_We can take you back," _they interrupted, moving closer without moving their legs, as if gliding across the floor. _"To before the organic destruction. To before...he died," _they seemed to correct themselves. _"We can make it so that things will be as they were before."_

"_If you had the chance to correct your mistakes, would you?"_

"_If you had the chance to save him from suffering, would you?"_

That was when he should have run. Even if this was a delusion, it was a dangerous one. As much as he yearned to believe the voices, the doctor's body was all he had. He should lay him to rest; do what he could with what he had left. But already the suggestions had started poisoning his decisions. He could no longer hear the tearing of skin but could instead hear soft murmuring, the final words that had been addressed to him, and the compassion that had been denied for so long.

Would he? What would he do to hear that voice again? He had no idea what the creatures were or what they were promising. For all he knew, they were trying to tempt him with suffering and death. But wasn't that what awaited him beyond the doors, too? What sort of a choice did he have?

A flame stirred in the ashes of his once burning heart and he closed his eyes for a moment. What if this wasn't real? Would sinking into insanity be so bad? Wasn't he already there?

"_Would you?"_

He opened his eyes again. The figures were still there, persistently solid. A weak smile tugged at his lips. The expression was void of anything of pain.

"Of course I would," he murmured. "But you already know that, don't you? Or you wouldn't be asking me." Silence. Cassian could picture them smiling. "What should I do?"

"_You will be given four opportunities," _they said. _"Four cycles. After that, you will have to accept whatever Fate has chosen for you. What you do during those cycles is up to you."_

"You won't help me?"

"_Ungrateful," _the dark one hissed again, slapping one hand loudly at its feet. _"We're giving you a chance to correct your failures."_

"_We are giving you a chance to help yourself," _the gold one insisted. _"Redemption for this man would mean nothing if we were the ones to grant it. You understand this."_

Cassian nodded. He did understand. How, he wasn't sure. At that moment, the only thing he was sure of was that there was a corpse in his arms and he was being offered a chance to stop that from ever happening. How it was supposed to work, he hadn't been told. Nor had he been told why he was being offered the chance. He didn't know what the creatures were either, some abomination raised by Delilah or a figment of his own imagination or something else entirely. He no longer cared. He just wanted this to end, this cold and bleak sensation in the pit of his stomach.

He wanted for it to not be the end.

"Show me," he whispered through dry lips.

"_Beginning first cycle," _they spoke in tandem, gliding forwards once again. _"You will not see us again until the cycle is complete."_

"_Whether you fail," _the dark one said with an invisible sneer.

"_Or whether you succeed," _the golden one finished.

Cassian was suddenly overcome with the strange sensation that he was being pulled away from the figures, although his eyes were telling him that he was standing still. He felt stretched and cold, being pulled towards something behind him that he was afraid to look at. As the sensation increased and became almost painful, his ears became full of a roaring sound and his vision began to blur. Trying to focus on the figures, Cassian cried out.

"Who are you? _What_ are you?"

The figures before him raised one shining and one misshapen hand in farewell/

_"Who do you think we are?"_

The doctor's body tumbled from his arms and he was unable to hear it hit the floor. His vision finally went dark and Cassian felt himself falling, tumbling, wheeling into a void which he had never imagined could exist. He tried to cry out but his voice was smothered by the cold. He was being drawn back, not physically, but into himself, into his past, into his memories...

And he was gone. The corridor was empty of all human life.

"_The game has begun," _the dark creature hissed as it began to fade back into the shadows, oily limbs pouring back into the cracks on the floor.

"_And the first move is mine," _the golden one asserted, dispersing and letting the gas lamps claim the corridor back as their own.

Insubstantial and unseen, as they were meant to be, they followed the man back into the past.

-x-

One warm and golden finger stroked across the sleeping man's forehead, leaving a glittering trail. The shimmering line sunk through the skin, seeping through the pores and into the malleable mind below. A mind was so easy to alter, wrapped in organic matter and easy to map.

But a soul...a soul was more difficult. A soul could govern its own actions, even through a little outward guidance. A soul was worth fighting for.

The light faded and left the man sleeping alone. For just a moment, the air echoed with distant laughter.

-x-

Cassian opened his eyes.

A mound of bones lay before him, small, broken, _children's_ bones. He sat up quickly, feeling cold stone beneath his hands. Something rough was plastered to the side of his face and he raised his hand absently to scratch it, encountering a strange substance that coated his skin. Struggling to work out what was happening through the fog that filled his mind, Cassian wondered where on earth he had fallen asleep…

_Wait._

Children's bones. Cold stone. A covering for one side of his face.

Cassian knew where he was: the tunnels below the mansion belonging to Justice. He had been hiding here until he could go back for Jizabel and -

His memory returned sharply and Cassian almost reeled. It had been real. All of it. Either that or he was so deeply immersed in insanity that he could feel the cold of stone beneath him and smell the damp and foetid air of the sewers as clearly as if he was there.

And he was there. He wanted for that to be true. It was easier to accept it as truth and carry on that cope with the pain of questioning.

The first cycle. One of four. Unprepared as he was, he knew the best approach was to face the situation logically. Cain Hargreaves was soon to fall through the hole above and recruit Cassian as a guide unknowingly. He had waited a while before waiting the earl up.

If he woke him sooner...

Cassian clambered to his feet and stared at the hole in the ceiling with manic determination. Last time, he had been okay with waiting. Nervous, even. Now, time wasn't passing quickly enough.

_I_will_save you, Jizabel,_he thought desperately. _I won't fail you again._

_-x-_

**A/N **_Thank you for your time in reading ^^ I intend to update this tomorrow and continue writing a chapter a day. Since it _should _end up at 5 chapters, it will be over very soon. Any reviews/feedback will be greeted with love, biscuits and a swift reply._

_Oh, and this story is dedicated to Savvi and Rachel. ''Cause you girls are amazing. 'nuff said._


End file.
